


Groundswell

by Inhospitable



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Child Alfred, Hanging, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I'm so sorry Alfred, Puritans, Salem Witch Trials, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29362143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inhospitable/pseuds/Inhospitable
Summary: Alfred experiences the Salem Witch Trials as a young child and bares witness to the evil side of humanity. Will Arthur make it in time before the damage is done?
Kudos: 10





	Groundswell

Groundswell  
Groundswell - A sudden rise of water along the shore. It often happens when the weather is fine and the sea behind it appears calm. Said to occur when undulating water from a far away storm reaches the shoreline where friction causes the swell. In common use, the term groundswell means a growing change in public opinion. -crewseekers

The spring was very cold in Salem. Bored and just waiting for his caretaker, Alfred leaned against the wood panels inside the barn. All curled up, his eyes drifted all around. Looking downwards and off to the side he watched a bug slowly crawl. Reaching down out of intrigue and childish wonder he tried to touch it. He couldn’t tell if it was to help the little guy cross his journey faster; Which made Alfred chuckle as he started to think of himself as a mighty Captain or a mighty Cartographer helping those who were lost to find their way  
or if he wanted to learn more about the curious little creature  
or if he just wanted to watch it crawl, struggle and squirm under the palm of his hand in sick satisfaction. Putting on the pressure, more and more and moreandmore until…

Looking up Alfred noticed straight above his sitting spot dangled a rope all tied into a knot. It was a strange looking knot. One Arthur had not yet taught the young boy. Alfred took a long and heavy breath in and let it dangle until it became a heavy sigh.   
The wind was also breathing, breathing and blowing against Alfred through the planks of wood. Though the barn, full of tools and hard dirt and a little boy, could only prevent the chilling air that spread down the young child’s back, in his clothes and around his exposed skin. Alfred’s teeth chattered, his eyes watered, and his bones shook. But the wood was still much warmer than being caught out in the open. The ground below also held the frightful grips of the perishing grass.   
As Alfred was wondering poetically about the soil he heard a piercing girl scream. He jumped and ran out the barn as fast as he could. The young lady was being dragged. She kicked and screamed with such ferocity you thought she was going to be murdered and/or tortured. And that very thought had Alfred scared and trembling, even more so. Looking closer, he could see she was being dragged by her long dark hair by a couple of men. One looking thin but tough and the other looking burly and angry.   
They were dragging the poor young woman to the mayor’s house, which was quite a distance and she would retain deep bruising from this scuffle for a few weeks. Curiosity and fright were over becoming of Alfred as he left the barn and house that Arthur came to visit and followed. The three had started to form a gathering. Alfred was looking wide eyed and in disbelief at no one trying to help the young woman or to at the least ask what she was being treated so harshly for. Ideas and thoughts began to circulate around his head.   
She shot another ear piercing scream, breaking him from his thoughts. If no one was going to help her, he had to go be the hero. Even though Arthur told him to stay put and out of sight, he just had to intervene. Rushing forward, Alfred quickened his pace until he stood facing the two men and the small followers behind them, just as intrigued as he was before.   
Standing there, shoulders square and face tight, the young lad stared them down from below their bellies. At first the two men stared bewildered, then the crowd murmured. The talks from the sidelines got louder, Alfred felt the rush of blood fill his face in anger then drain leaving numb warmth and a fluid dread. “The witch does indeed have a gremlin servant embedded within shadows!”   
“I saw him do it! He ate my goat whole. Bones and blood and fur!” 

“I saw her pet him in his lap like a dog while his eyes glowed red, red like the fire pits of hell I did!”

“No! No wait, I-I did no such thing! Tis all lies my friends,” Alfred bellowed. The crowd turned stunned and quiet. The two men smiled with angry eyes full of hunger and madness and the crowd looked down at him with disgust.   
“We, my little demon, are not your friends. Nor have we ever seen you born or grow.”  
“ Heck, yous practically a spector!”

Alfred became shocked. His mouth went agape and his eyes widened as the very people he trusted, his people started to crowd and turn against him. He slowly started to turn down towards the girl. She had been awfully quiet.   
She was facing the ground, pondering, wondering about the accusations when she looked back at him her face changed. No longer was it frenzied fear, no longer had it become inquisitive, but it made all the dread, the terrible predictions of what was to come all the worse. She looked up from her kneeled position and faced Alfred’s eyes with fear. Worst of all it was fear against him, and no longer the fear of just being falsely accused. Strong fright of the actuality of their statements, of this creature being what all feared. Death and pure evil sent in the form of a child in their own homes.   
Little Alfred wanted to fight, to struggle to run. But the energy left him and he cowered away. He clang to the tiniest hope that Arthur would be visiting soon. Arthur would check every nook and cranny to find where Alfie lay, hiding away. And then, finding nothing he would come looking for him, finding him at the last second. He’d rescue Alfred. Arthur would save him and everything would be alright.  
Alfred slowed his pace, stuck in his idle thoughts and hopes. The townsfolk shoved him roughly causing Alfred to stumble on a sharp rock and fall down. Blood came slowly from the scrape that appeared on his bottom foot. It hurt and the cold wind shocked Alfred further into his mind, while keeping tabs on the way the young girl snarled at him once in a while. 

The dirt and rocks and cold hurt the scrape with every step. The more Alfred walked the more it hurt. He wanted to stop, slow down, run away back home. But, everytime he slowed his pace, the townspeople shoved him along with ear piercing screams and heart breaking words.   
The closer they got to the center of town, the more people that gathered, the more their stares pierced his heart.   
They can’t seriously hold so much hatred. This all must be falsified into a gag, a joke, a running deceit. Alfred shivered and shook. The wind picking up speeds and blowing away the comfort of warmth, the loving embrace of hugs, and comradery. It carried the bitter cold of people’s hearts, their frozen eyes, their chilling screams.  
“Bring me back my son, you monster!”  
“You’s bring disaster to our homes.”  
“Why d’you curse us, why d’you curse ta father?!”  
Alfred looked up at the townsfolk, ”I’ve done no such -” Alfred was shoved by one of the guards and his face hit the soil.  
“Enough of your trickery!”  
This isn't what Alfred wanted. He never wanted anything like this. And he wondered where it all went wrong. What did he do wrong? “I’m scared Iggy,” he said in a whisper.

Those being held in captivity were in a building that was used to disease and the sick. It always felt cloudy and dark on a sunny and bright day. The air weighed heavy and stabbed the very essence of one's heart. No use in forming bonds or convenets, all became fiends, liars and thieves for their own self interest. When Alfred laid eyes upon the sight he knew instantly what awaited this place. Something whispered in the young welps ears, this is not a safe place. The people’s wicked thoughts and deprived hearts started screaming in the distance of another time and place. Or maybe it was coming now, Alfred could tell not. 

As he got closer to the building and jail, bricks and bars he began to struggle. A new guard, older with a salt and pepper beard and a hat approaches with a sword. He was surrounded by his men and more swords, sharp weapons that could end a life swiftly. He tried to duck only to have the old soldier swiftly lower his sword towards his neck. “Should we teach you a lesson youngling? By cutting a part of this stolen vessel of God’s off?”  
“No, NO please, I’ll behave.” Alfred wept and pleaded. He could not see some men wickedly grin at his despair. They felt powerful.  
The soldier with the salt and pepper beard approached and overtowered the young child. A wicked moment of hope and crushing reality in a single moment's glance filtered through his mind before the man brought down his boot upon Alfred's ankle. A cracking sound followed by a sharp scream. The nearby women recoiled and covered their ears. “Stop the creatures howls!”  
“He summons help from his master.”  
“AAUGHHHH!!! Please IGGY!! Please help me!”  
A sword handle came crushing down upon his temple, ”Quiet beast.”   
Alfred’s visage swirled and he collided into darkness for a moment. 

Alfred awoke to the darkness and damp coldness. Across, within the same holding was the very young lady he witnessed earlier. They were placed together within. Alfred shuffled to gain his bearings only to be met with heavy iron chains upon his thin wrists and both ankles. The pain was receding and the bone started to heal upon its own and started to bruise a horrific shade of black and green.   
Alfred lifted his head towards the cowering girl shivering in the dark, unable to determine time of day. Before Alfred could communicate his sympathies towards the young woman she approached him first. No, lunged after him. She bore eyes and mouth like a wild beast prepared to die fighting a monster. Alfred shrunk backwards into a rusted and jagged bar. The lady growled and was halted by chains of her own. All through the night she cursed at him and screamed. Alfred curled inwards upon himself, praying for the peaceful fields, his little cottage, and Arthur. Alfred silently wept, “Please come get me, big brother.”

Daybreak came at an anguishing slow pace. The old soldier and his followers came to deliver them to the courthouse for their judgment. Only, Alfred was notified of his sentence immediately. “You lot have been found guilty, and sentenced to death by the gallows,” His voice boomed and echoed. ‘Death? The ending of this life?’  
“No! There’s been a mistake, please. This isn’t a fair sente-” Alfred was cut off with a kick in his ribs. The air pulled from his lungs and words dying of deaf ears.   
“There is no place for you in honest dwellings. In contrast,” He peered down upon Alfred’s non broken ankle,” you heal faster than any being I’ve ever laid eyes upon. Tis this not proof enough. As for the rest of the wretched wenches they’ve been proven through evidence and common sense.”  
“Common sense!?” What’s common about any of this? What human sensibility is all this nonsense! Is it just a ruse, a fib and gullible ploy to cut down on those consuming the resources for the rest of them? What madness, surely they can see that is what this has become!?  
Stone cold glares and disinterest answered Alfred back.

As the sun began to gleam over the hills and empty tree’s, Alfred followed the pace of his reapers. As Alfred marches to the four hanging ropes he feels wet flows down his face. But his hands and arms are stretched uncomfortably behind him. Ropes connecting him to the other accused, who betrayed and disregarded him. Hated by those he’s tied to, and maliced fear by the ones onlooking such...entertainment? Is that what this is? A show to them. Hysteria and insanity began to filter themselves inside Alfred. He felt the uncouth of loneliness. As he approached the stage he thought back to Arthur. Arthur and his bedtime stories that fought off fear and laid him to rest. Stories of brave warriors and knights. Heroes! And heroes always showed up at the last moment!   
Happiness and glee filled him in an instant. ‘Iggy will come for me.’   
Alfred walked up the steps.  
‘I just have to bide my time.’  
He approached his ring of hell, the noose. And his smile wavered, faltering into madness.  
‘Hero’s always make it in time, the last moment of suspense before all the innocents are saved.’  
The executioner wrapped the bristled rope around his thin pale neck, tightening it roughly and somberly.  
‘Very well, time has ticked into close calls.’  
The countdown began.  
“3”  
‘Iggy?’  
“2”  
‘Help me, please.’  
“1!”  
‘Arth-!’

The sun was dusking into the evening horizon when Arthur’s ships arrived. He was giddy to see the look on Alfred’s face at the new set of toys and books he brought him.   
Upon entering the house he was met with eerie silence. “How unnerving.” Arthur looked all around the home and found now little child eager with anticipation at his return. He made an effort to arrive sooner than normal because he had been hearing some unrest as of late in the colonies. Knowing Alfred, the boy would attempt a rescue mission for the poor lasses. ‘Indeed that boy would do such a thing. However, I had informed him a plethora of moments to keep a low profile. Human beings are prejudice. They never change, nor ever will in their attempts at war or madness. I have witnessed it many a times.’ And with him not around an undaunting calm in the air is foreshadowing dread and worry.  
Arthur made a move down to the near town. The sun hung low in the sky, shading the world into darkness with a bloodied tint. The ground and trees and housing all appearing from hell fire’s gates.   
In the town square Arthur bore witness to four hanging corpses. Three medium length, most noticeably the aforementioned ladies. But the fourth limp figure, this being was much too short and thin to be an adult. ‘A child! These people have resorted to killing their own children now!?’  
Upon dreaded inspection and blocking deductions, Arthur came to know that child’s face. “Alfred?” Arthur whimpered. Arthur scrambled to the limp body and pulled out his knife. Cutting the rope with a brisk pace he never looked more scared, unnerved, sympathetic. He was sympathetic because he knows how it feels to be hurt by your own people. And he knows this will never be the last.

After a few minutes carried on Alfred started to breathe and awake. Arthur grimaced. Alfred’s eyes were dead for a moment longer than he’d want. Then Alfred began to scream. His eyes looking right passed his caregiver into an unknown. The boy was prepared to do any means necessary within his undaunting strength to escape. Arthur tightened a grip on the young boy and held close to his chest. His heartbeat thumped fast in worry, while Alfred’s leaped and pounded.   
He could feel the burning in his throat. The pinch of the noose on his skin all around. Air blocked and bones cracked. A numbness of warm frost enveloped his being. He hung like this with eyes watered and glazed, staring at the void until he healed and gasped air in once again.  
That night Arthur stayed longer. They held each other close. When Alfred started to drowse and drift to unconsciousness, his body would jerk and shake awake. Arthur would notice every moment. How the boy would wrap his hands around his neck. Arthur could only pull him closer as the waters along the shores began to rise.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, sorry this story took way longer than I thought it would. I hope it came out well enough. This is kinda unedited and I would love some feedback or comments of any kind. Please and thank you.   
> And thank you so soooo much for reading this!


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